


The prologue of Amery

by Quorra_Rider



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Fantasy, Literary References & Allusions, Magic, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 19:19:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14900462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quorra_Rider/pseuds/Quorra_Rider
Summary: Every reader has wondered what would happen if they were in the same situation as a fictional character. Most like to believe that they would be fine because they were better and smarter than the original character, but others know they wouldn't be able to react to certain scenarios.I had no idea how I'd react if I found myself in a completely unknown universe that had always been right in front of me. So when that happened, I simply acted the best way I could.Notice that I said "the best way", not "the most sensible way".Sense is what keeps us away from the best things in life.I didn't hesitate when I realized that my life had become a book. Instead of dreading the adventure, I decided to live it and, therefore, write this book.My name is Amery, and this is my prologue.





	The prologue of Amery

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, before you start reading, I have a few things to say.  
> This is my first time publishing a story in this website, so I'm still figuring out how it works. If there's anything wrong, please, tell me.  
> English isn't my first language, so, if I made any grammar mistakes, please, tell me.  
> This story was written with the intention of relating to many book lovers out there, so you'll probably notice there are lots of references to other books and even some movies in there. It isn't necessary to know or to have read any of the books mentioned to understand this story, though knowing some of the works might add up to your reading experience.  
> This was also written with the intention of having a single chapter, but, because many of my readers asked, I'm currently writing a sequel to this. It'll probably be published separately, though. 
> 
> Well, I think this is it. I hope you like this and, if you do, I repeat: please, tell me.

_"Well," I said theatrically, “does anyone have anything to say before I start reading this new series of books?”_

_“Do you have any food?” Rebecca asked, predictably._

_"No," I answered, also predictably. "And I'm poor and have to pay for the bus ticket, so do not even try to take money from me."_

_She murmured a disappointed "ah" and I looked at Gabe, who was staring at me with pleading eyes behind his thick glasses._

_"Are you really going to exchange my explanation about Skyrim for a series of books completely unknown about another dystopian future?" He asked. I sighed._

_"Look, Gabe, I know Skyrim's cool. I played it, remember? But for me, books are more important than games. I know there are hundreds of works on dystopian futures, but there are also dozens of games about dystopian futures, because utopian futures do not seem interesting and, according to Hobbes's theory, they are impossible because humans are naturally bad, which means that the Earth is destined to be destroyed and mankind, extinct._

_"That's a good argument," Becca said, and I raised my eyebrows suggestively at Gabe._

_"Don’t abandon us," he asked, in the pleading voice and drama of an RPG character._

_"I won’t," I said, and opened the book._

 

God, my life was easier back then. Going to school, reading a lot, watching TV series and laughing at jokes full of references and sarcasm with my friends. Jokes that I usually took from fantasy fiction books with dragons, demons, elves, fairies, wizards, demigods, ghosts and etc.

I remember perfectly what happened that day.

I was distracted, on the bus, going home, reading the first book of a trilogy. I studied at the night shift and left class at 10:30 p.m., which meant taking the 11 o'clock bus almost completely empty.

I wasn't paying attention to anything but the story unfolding before my eyes. It was a very good book. Almost as good as the first book in the “Throne of Glass” series or “The Infernal Devices”, though it had a touch of “Divergent” with an inclination to “Slated”. It was the kind of book that would make me stay up all night just to read it, like many other books I had read before.

I remember not noticing the figure in front of me until its shadow began to bother me. I was wearing headphones with the music off so people wouldn’t talk to me and to have some sound insulation on the bus. When I looked up I saw that bizarre person in a black overcoat, a wide brimmed hat and wearing a gold mask that reminded me of Tamlin in “A Court of Thorns and Roses”, or Ezio Auditore in “Renaissance”.

I did not get surprised, nor did I scream, nor did I ask who he was. When you read too much fiction and if you dream a lot, you start to wish something special happens in your life. When I saw him in front of me, I almost asked if he had my Hogwarts letter, but I remembered that I was already fifteen, so it wasn’t possible. I still had hope of going to Narnia, though.

Unfortunately, the only thing the weird guy did was throw a coin and a folded piece of paper over my book, turn around and get off the bus. I took the coin and analyzed it, wondering if he thought I was some kind of Arya Stark, who’d get on a ship and go to Bravos, but then I took the paper and saw what was written in it: "Try the wishing well", with an impeccable handwriting made with a fountain pen.

It was only then that I realized I had missed my stop and cursed loudly inside the empty bus. I threw the book in my backpack, put the coin and the paper in my sweatshirt’s pocket, and looked at the sign outside to know where I was.

Surprise: bus stop "Wishing well".

Okay, I wasn’t that surprised. Besides, it was pretty obvious what I had to do. Any good fiction reader knows what to do in this situation.

I got off the bus and walked along the sidewalk. Honestly I didn't expect to have to strain myself. In books, when something strange happens to the protagonist for the first time, they don’t go to great lengths to continue the events. Everything develops spontaneously because, in reality, the main character doesn’t know what is happening or why. Things only begin to depend on them later, when they understand that they aren’t part of the "normal human beings" group and become an active power in the narrative.

How do I know that? I read too much. And I write a lot too. I like to have the feeling of deciding what does or does not happen, to choose if a character lives or dies; on paper, the writer has the power of a god. After all, who doesn’t like power?

I kept walking with nothing special in mind until I noticed I was on the edge of a huge lawn, the type that, if you have an extremely childish side like me, will make you want to roll on it while laughing like a lunatic. That's what I used to do until my grandmother ordered me out of her garden, to stop ruining the plants and getting my clothes dirty.

On this lawn, however, I knew that it would be impossible to do so because a stone pit well stood right in the middle of it and I, with a very great notion of my bad luck, I would certainly hit my head in it eventually. So I contented myself with walking to the well and looking into it, hoping to find a plausible explanation for what I should do, because, for God’s sake, I wouldn’t be able to play Alice and throw myself into an unknown hole because of a strange fellow who somehow led me there. But of course, the well could be very useful if I had to throw a key, a stone, and a hand made of needles in there, like Coraline, to get rid of an evil creature who pretends to be my mother.

I took the coin in my pocket and studied it one last time, finally realizing what made it unusual: it was one cent. One cent coins hadn't been produced in years. But then I noticed something else: the coin was attached to my wrist by a thin chain, like a silver bracelet without a clasp.

“Oh, really? Is this how you tell me to throw myself into a well with a coin?" I exclaimed, rolling my eyes. "Wouldn’t it be easier to write it on the damn paper?"

Just to make sure I wasn’t wrong, I looked at the paper again and concluded that nothing had changed in it. You never know. When crazy things start to happen, they  _really_  do happen.

Throwing myself into the pit was simply too stupid since I had no special gifts or anything, so I pulled the chain that came down into the well until I took the bucket out of it so I could put one foot inside it, and then used the chain to make a slow descent to the bottom, which wasn’t very easy considering my weight and the weight of my backpack.

When I stepped down, I realized that everything was dry and there was something wrong. Considering the extremely green lawn above, the soil should be fertile, which means humid, and, at that depth, there should be at least moisture in the stones and water in the bottom, but normal wells also don’t have a curved wooden door on the wall, so I gave up asking.

At that moment I stopped to think about what I had done so far. It felt like school, Rebecca, Gabe, homework and the philosophy test were days away.

It was then I knew there was no turning back. I couldn’t return to the life I had before even if I wanted to. Like in the Chronicles of Narnia, when the magician's nephew sees the bell ready to be played and reads "ring the bell or spend the rest of your life wondering what would have happened if you had done it." I couldn’t bear the thought of not knowing what would happen, especially being completely in love with fantasy and hating my world for not being special.

I'd kill myself if I went back, because if I did, I’d never see that place again. It would be like choosing to live in the Matrix. So, I did what every protagonist in a fantasy book would do in my place: knocked on the door.

I am confident in saying that this was the end of the prologue of my story.

 

\- Amery Nithercott


End file.
